FOUR DAYS AT DETROIT.
After a much-needed rest of a day and two nights at Ecorse, I left that
quiet retreat on the afternoon of July thirty-first, with Detroit as my
evening objective. At Fort Wayne, I was met by Babcock, who brought me
the sad intelligence of the death of my little Detroit friend, Kitty
Murphy, who had failed very rapidly after her brief visit to Toledo. We
rode forward together, reaching the Russell House at five o'clock, and
there I was met by General William A. Throop and others, who were
appointed as a committee to receive me. In the evening I lectured at St.
Andrew's Hall, being introduced by General L. S. Trowbridge and was
accompanied on the platform by several Grand Army comrades.
Immediately after the lecture, I hurried to the home of my bereaved
friends, where I found the mother and sisters of the dead girl
completely prostrated with grief. The one who had gone was their
favorite, for whom they had the highest hopes, and it was hard to be
reconciled to the passing away of a life so full of promise and noble
purposes. I was proud to know that one universally loved and admired
had thought of me in her last moments and had left a token of her
friendship.
On the morning of August first, I arranged my affairs so as to be able
to attend the funeral services of my young friend the following day.
The proceeds of my lecture were handed to the Monument Fund committee
with a letter from me to be forwarded to Monroe, and its representatives
here acknowledged this in the following note:
_City Hall_,
DETROIT, MICHIGAN,
_August 1, 1876_.
Received of Captain Willard Glazier, forty dollars, for the benefit
of the Custer Monument Association, as the proceeds of his lecture,
at Detroit, on the evening of July 31, 1876, in aid of such
association.
[_Signed_] L. S. TROWBRIDGE,
WILLIAM A. THROOP,
_Committee_.
On the afternoon of August second, I went to Kitty's grave with her
family and friends, where we arranged on the little mound our gifts of
flowers. I placed my own offering--a crown--at her head. It was the last
tribute, the "farewell" which we hoped might one day be lost in
"welcome."
During my stay here, many friends extended invitations to visit them,
but I was able to accept very few. Among those whom I met was my old
comrade, Captain Charles G. Hampton, who was at the Russell House to
greet me when I arrived. No one could have been more welcome. Captain
Hampton and I began our somewhat peculiar acquaintance as classmates in
the State Normal College at Albany, New York, in the spring of 1861,
where we joined a military organization known later as the "Normal
Company" of the "Ellsworth Avengers"--Forty-fourth New York
Infantry--whose members were put through a course of drills in
anticipation of future necessity, our voluntary drill masters being
Professors Rodney G. Kimball and Albert N. Husted.
It was argued by the principal and by the faculty generally, that while
young men were learning how to teach the schools of the State, it would
be well also for them to be prepared to defend the flag of the State. We
had just closed our term when President Lincoln issued his call for
seventy-five thousand volunteers, and as it was not at this time the
apparent intent of the Normal Company to enter the service as a body, we
decided to enlist in some other organization.
Hampton went to Rochester where he joined the Eighth New York Cavalry,
while I enlisted in the Second New York-Harris Light Cavalry, at Troy.
We did not meet again until November, 1863--when, by the fortune of war,
we both became inmates of Libby Prison. The circumstances that brought
us there were, on his side, wounds and capture in an action with
guerrillas under Mosby; on mine, capture in a cavalry battle near New
Baltimore, Virginia, during Lee's retreat from the field of Gettysburg.
During our imprisonment at Richmond, Danville, Macon, Savannah, and
Charleston, Captain Hampton and I belonged to separate messes, so that,
while we met daily, we had very little intimate intercourse. At
Columbia, however, it was different. We arrived there in the midst of a
violent thunder-storm, and were marched to our "quarters," in an open
yard where the water was running in streams. Hampton had managed to get
possession of a board about twelve feet long when he met me, and
immediately asked if I had anything to stand or lie on. Upon receiving a
negative answer he said: "Come on, let us share this plank together."
From this time we were messmates, being joined later by Lieutenant
Arthur Richardson of Albany. When I escaped from Columbia I intrusted to
Captain Hampton a small box in which I had kept some manuscripts and
sketches, that I intended to use in future work. This he managed to keep
until his exchange, when he expressed it to my home in Northern New
York. We did not meet again until after the close of the war. The
possession of the contents of this box was of inestimable value to me in
getting out my first book, "Capture, Prison-Pen and Escape." Being
embarrassed for funds before the first edition of it was published, I
wrote to Captain Hampton, and by the next mail received a generous sum
sufficient to carry me through that critical period. Since then he has
been a most loyal friend and comrade, and during my stay here, did much
to make enjoyable my visit to the city which he had chosen for his home.
One needs no friends though, to make Detroit attractive, for its past
history and present beauty give it an unfailing interest. As to the
latter, it can never be justly drawn, however vivid the description, nor
truly understood, however careful the reader. It must be _seen_. As to
its history, that is general and belongs to the country, and I know of
no great American city which has a more romantic past.
In the days of the early explorers the present site was looked upon as
favorable for a settlement, commanding as it does a rich tract of
country and lying at the very entrance to the Upper Lakes. The Iroquois
were then in possession and their village was known as Teusha Grondi.
Both the English and French coveted this point, but the latter were more
enterprising, and anticipated their rivals by making an appointment with
the Iroquois for a great council at Montreal, in which the
Governor-General of Canada and others were to have a voice. The wary
Frenchmen presented their claims very plausibly, but failed to win the
approbation of the equally wary Indians. They were told that their
brothers, the Englishmen, had been refused, and that it was not well to
show partiality; but this excuse had very little weight with the
subjects of the Grande Monarque, who had been accustomed to make
themselves at home generally. The Governor-General in an impressive
speech replied that neither the Iroquois nor the English had any right
to the land which belonged to the King of France, and that an expedition
had been already sent out to establish a fort on the Detroit River!
This was indeed the case. La Motte Cadillac, with a Jesuit missionary
and one hundred men, was on his way, while his countrymen, with the
consistency which has ever marked the dealings between the red and white
races, were asking permission of the Indians. The French fleet, composed
of twenty-five birch canoes bearing the colors of France, reached the
Detroit River in July, 1701. There was a telling significance in the
floating of that flag over the boats decorated with Indian symbols and,
if the savages had discerned it, the French commander and his followers
would never have reached their destination. As it was, they came
quietly as friends, and were allowed to establish themselves without
interference.
On the first rise of ground overlooking the river, the palisades were
raised and the guns set, and by the close of August, Fort Ponchartrain
became a reality. The Miamis and Pottawattomies were soon induced to
make a settlement near by, and afterwards a few Huron and Ottawa bands
collected on the opposite shore of the river near the site of Windsor.
The point quickly attracted the fur trader, being in a direct line from
Michilimackinac to Montreal and Quebec. For sixty-two years the French
held possession of Detroit, profiting by her superior location, and the
friendship of the Indians, but their day ended when the sharp eyes of
Wolfe discovered the steep ascent to the "Plains of Abraham," in Canada,
and pointed a way for British supremacy.
The Treaty of Paris, which was the outcome of the French and Indian War,
called for the surrender of all the forts held by the French, but news
travelled so slowly that when Captain Rodgers with his two hundred
rangers came to take possession of Fort Ponchartrain, he found still
floating over it the flag of France. While on his way to execute this
mission, he was met by Pontiac, the Ottawa chief, who was angered by the
transfer of claimants to his land, and who demanded of Rodgers "what
right he had in entering the dominion of the great Indian King without
permission." The answer he received was far from satisfactory, but he
bided his time to make his dissatisfaction felt. The same feeling was
manifested everywhere by the Indian allies of the French, but their
wrath was concentrated upon Detroit, on account of its being the great
stronghold of the West.
In 1763, Pontiac had arranged his famous scheme for either annihilating
the obnoxious new-comers or driving them east of the Alleghenies. They
did not treat him so considerately as the old claimants, and he was
far-seeing enough to realize the result. Aflame with hatred and
determined to save his people from the fate that awaited them, he
visited the great tribes that were friendly, and sought their
co-operation. In a speech at the great council held at Ecorse on the
twenty-seventh of April, 1762, he said, "As for these English--these
dogs dressed in red who have come to rob you of your hunting-grounds and
to drive away the game--you must lift the hatchet against them and wipe
them from the face of the earth." The plan was worthy of a Napoleon. The
confederated tribes were to attack simultaneously all the Western forts,
while his particular band was to be brought against Detroit. This point
he had expected to take by stratagem and would no doubt have succeeded
but for the betrayal of the plot by an Ojibway maiden who was in love
with the British commandant. The day before its execution this Indian
girl brought Major Gladwyn a pair of moccasins which he had asked her to
make for him, and on her way home with the remainder of the deer-skin,
which he had furnished for the same purpose, she lingered about the gate
so as to attract the attention of the sentinel. He saw that she seemed
to be troubled about something, and asked her to return. Wavering
between love and duty to her race, she hesitated; but finally the
impulse of her heart prevailed, and returning to the room of the
commandant, she told him the terrible secret.
Pontiac was to come to the fort on the morrow ostensibly to hold
peaceful negotiations with his white brothers, but really to massacre
them. His warriors, who had cunningly shortened their rifles by sawing
off a part of the barrels, so that they might carry them concealed
beneath their blankets, were to fall upon Gladwyn and his men at a given
signal. This news was lightly received although the statements of the
Indian girl seemed to be verified by a slight thread of evidence which
had from time to time been brought to Gladwyn's notice. He laughed at
the thought of danger at such a time, when the peace which had lasted
for two years appeared so likely to continue; but while he doubted
Pontiac's real intentions, he decided to be prepared for any issue. The
guards were doubled, sentinels were stationed on the ramparts, and when
the great chief came in the guise of friendship, he was completely
nonplussed by the show of discipline in the garrison. Entering the north
gate with his sixty blanketed conspirators, he found himself confronted
by a double line of red-coated soldiers, their muskets held at "present
arms." At the corners of the streets were groups of fur traders, and at
regular intervals the silence was broken by the beating of drums.
Surprised at every turn, and fearing that his plot had been discovered,
Pontiac walked on sullenly endeavoring to conceal his annoyance. When he
reached the council-house he said to Gladwyn, "Why do I see so many of
my father's young men standing in the streets with their guns?" The
commandant lightly replied that he had just been drilling them to
preserve discipline and that it was moreover a custom with the English
to thus honor their guests. These suavely spoken words failed to
reassure the chief, who sat down for a few moments without speaking; but
having recovered his self-possession and assuming with it an habitual
expression of stoical defiance, he arose and began his harangue.
Gladwyn, he noticed, instead of listening to what was being said, kept
his eyes steadfastly upon the movements of the other Indians, and when
the belt of wampum was taken up and the chief began to reverse it in his
hands--the signal for attack--Gladwyn made a quick motion and in an
instant the dusky semi-circle was startled by the grounding of arms and
the beating of drums.
Thus interrupted and foiled, Pontiac took his seat in silence. Gladwyn
then arose, and began his speech as though nothing unusual had occurred;
but after a few moments he changed his tone, accused Pontiac of
treachery, and stepping quickly to the nearest Indian threw open his
blanket and disclosed the hidden weapon. He then told Pontiac to leave
the fort at once, assuring him that he would be allowed to go in safety.
The unfortunate result of this act of clemency was very soon felt, for
as soon as the Indians were outside of the gates, they turned and fired
upon the garrison, thus beginning the terrible siege which was to last
fifteen months.
Autumn approached, and, as the crops were poor, several of the tribes
withdrew for the winter, but Pontiac, untiring in his efforts to harass
his enemies, remained, sending messages in the meantime to several of
the French posts, asking their help. In November he received word from
the commandant of Fort Chartres on the Mississippi telling him that it
was impossible for the French to give any help as they had signed a
treaty with the English; and later similar messages reached him from
other points. Still he did not give up. His allies had captured eight
forts, and if he could take Detroit success would undoubtedly follow.
In the spring the tribes returned to renew the attack upon the wellnigh
exhausted garrison, keeping up their fiendish tortures, capturing
vessels sent with supplies and reinforcements, and bringing the handful
of brave men within the palisades to the verge of despair. As summer
advanced the anxious watchers, hearing the sunset gun thunder out across
the water, thought that each night might be their last; but off in the
East, General Bradstreet and his large force were starting to the
rescue, and by midsummer they had crushed the hopes, if not the proud
spirit of Pontiac. Sending one of his officers to this chief with terms
of peace, his advances were received with the coldest disdain. Captain
Morris, who was the ambassador, was met beyond the Indian camp by
Pontiac himself, but the chief refused to extend his hand, and bending
his glittering eyes upon the officer said, with a voice full of
bitterness and hatred, "The English are liars!"
All attempts at conciliation were made in vain. Pontiac, taking with him
four hundred warriors, went away, revisiting all the tribes, sending the
wampum belt and hatchet stained with vermilion far and wide, and
exhorting the Indians to unite in the common cause, threatening, if they
refused, to consume them "as the fire consumes the dry grass of the
prairie." He failed to rouse them, however, and was forced at last to
return to Detroit and accept peace.
The feelings that surged in his savage heart, when he found himself thus
defeated, can only be guessed. Chagrined and disappointed, he retired to
Illinois, and there perished by the hand of an assassin. No stone marks
his burial-place, "and the race whom he hated with such burning rancor
trample with unceasing footsteps over his forgotten grave."
The early history of Detroit is full of tragedy, and although the
beautiful river and its islands, the splendid forests and sunny fields
that encompass it, seem to have been intended for peace and the play of
romance, they were instead the scenes of treachery and carnage. During
the war of the Revolution, Detroit and Mackinaw, far from the field of
action, nevertheless had their share in it. From their magazines Indians
were furnished with arms and ammunition and were sent out with these to
harass and destroy the frontier settlements of New York, Pennsylvania,
Virginia and Kentucky, receiving a price upon their return for the
scalps which they brought! Besides these Indian expeditions, the local
militia went out, at one time under Captain Byrd, and again under Henry
Hamilton. The latter, in an attempt to protect the British interests on
the Wabash, was cleverly captured at Vincennes by General George Clarke,
who advanced upon this post with his men supported by a formidable but
harmless device in the form of a cannon cut out of a tree. Hamilton,
dreading the artillery, surrendered, and the people of Detroit,
believing that the victor would march against them, erected a new fort
near the present corner of Fort and Shelby streets, which they named
Lenault. During the war of 1812, this name was changed and the post
became known as Fort Shelby.
After the treaty of 1783 the western posts did not at once acknowledge
American jurisdiction, and among these Detroit seemed to be the most
defiant, but when Wayne effectually weakened the strength of the
Indians, there was a general surrender, although the United States
forces did not take actual possession until July eleventh, 1796. With
childish spite, the British, upon leaving this fort, broke the windows
of the barracks, filled the wells with stones and did all they could to
annoy those who were to succeed them, and when General Hull came there
as governor of the territory, it is possible that the ruin which he
found was occasioned by the same spirit of revenge.
During the succeeding years, Detroit was again one of the points towards
which an unpropitious fate pointed a finger. The Indians, still
believing that the Americans were driving them from their land, were
making preparations to attack the settlements, led on by the powerful
influence of the two chiefs, Tecumseh and the Prophet.
At a grand council the assembled tribes were told, according to the
policy of these chiefs, that the Great Spirit had appeared to chief
Tront and had told him that He was the father of the English, French,
Spaniards and Indians, but that the Americans were the sons of the Evil
One! Under such influence the uprising which resulted in the war between
Great Britain and the United States began.
When General Brock, seconded by Tecumseh, marched on Detroit, he
requested of the Chief, in case the place was taken, that the
inhabitants should be spared massacre, to which the haughty savage
replied, "that he despised them too much to have anything to do with
them." The result of this attack, and the inexplicable conduct of
General Hull, had aroused a strong feeling of disgust, and universal
sympathy was felt for those brave men, who, upon hearing that their
superior officer was surrendering without an attempt at resistance,
"dashed their muskets upon the ground in an agony of mingled shame and
indignation."
Victories elsewhere finally obliged the British to evacuate, and on the
eighteenth of October, General Harrison and Commodore Perry issued a
proclamation from this fort, which once more assured the people of
Michigan of protection.
Passing through the test of fire and sword, Detroit has gradually
progressed in all those ways which go to make up a great and prosperous
city. Fulfilling her natural destiny she has become one of the most
important commercial centres in the United States, and as a port of
entry can boast with reason of her strength. The narrow lanes which were
enclosed within the pickets of Fort Ponchartrain, and trodden by men in
the French uniform, in English red coats and in the skins of the deer
and beaver, have reached out over many miles, and have become an
intricate maze of streets and avenues, lined with homes and business
houses which bear no trace of the old time block house and trader's
cabin.
Here and there, where history is preserved, one finds a few relics of
the "dead past" embalmed in paint or print or labelled within the glass
case of a museum; but the present Detroit is interesting enough without
these. In every direction it is brightened by parks and adorned by
fountains; and the broad avenues lined by generous borders of grass and
shaded by cool lines of trees, are something for Americans to be proud
of, especially when they recall the fact that "Johnny Crapeau" once
asserted that this particular corner of the new world belonged to the
Grande Monarque; and "John Bull" in turn claimed it for his own.
One of the prettiest parts of the city, and perhaps within the
possibility of description, is the Campus Martius. On it stands the
suggestive if somewhat unusual monument designed by Randolph Rogers and
erected by the city at a cost of sixty thousand dollars. The surmounting
figure is that of an Indian maiden representing the State, and on the
tablet beneath, the inscription tells us that it was placed there "in
honor of the martyrs who fell and the heroes who fought in defence of
Liberty and Union." Everywhere are evidences of a high appreciation of
beauty and comfort, and if the people of Detroit are sometimes tempted
to seek a change and rest on some of the little island resorts of the
river, or on Lake St. Clair, it is not because their own homes are
unattractive. Some one has said, "if places could speak, they would
describe people far better than people can describe places," and this is
especially true of this great city. It is impossible by words to do it
justice. The public buildings, the thronged streets, the busy harbor,
the shady avenues, must be seen to be appreciated, and there are very
few places which will justify praise and repay expectation more
liberally than this splendid City of the Strait.